Tender to Love
by optimise
Summary: Andromeda wants to follow her family's wishes more than anything. Ted doesn't. "I don't have a choice," Andromeda repeated. "But if I did — if I could choose — just know that it'd be you. I'd pick you every single time." — one-shot, ted/andromeda, COMPLETE


. . .

* * *

 _andromeda black x ted tonks_

* * *

 _° "love is the sharpest of blades towards the tenderest of hearts." °_

* * *

 _ **before**_

She noticed the yellow and black stripes running across his tie before she glanced at his crookedly beaming grin. And with raised sculpted eyebrows and pursed coral lips — a sure sign of her barely-concealed contempt — Andromeda Black stared at him. It was cold — dismissive, even — but Edward Tonks' quirky smile didn't even waver, not even an uneasy quiver of his lips. This situation was unacceptable.

"So. . . I guess we're partners?" he chirped, sliding into the shaky bench beside hers and plopping his book bag with a thud on the floor.

Andromeda winced at the echoing noise thudding through the room and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. With a wry grimace, she tried to ignore how the buttons on his oxford shirt were stringing off slightly and how the tails of the top were shoved crassly into his trousers, practically calling out for a proper tuck-in — and maybe an iron to smooth out those creased wrinkles adorning the front of his chest.

His light brown hair kept flopping over his forehead — like a trip to a stylist couldn't even keep his tousled locks primped precisely — and Tonks couldn't even be bothered to blow it off his eyes. She spared a brief side-glance towards him, scrunching her nose at the way he began rolling up his shirt and flexing his fists.

And then with the most obscured tone of conceit, Andromeda muttered back, "I guess we are."

Tonks grinned again, foolishly showing off his matching dimples and crow's feet, before pulling out a crumpled-feathered quill and jotting down the slurred words of Slughorn as the Professor rambled on about the project due in ten weeks — worth a quarter of their marks.

As the class ended and students began chatting about the next meal, Andromeda carefully packed away her jumper and the pieces of parchment paper into her grey and black schoolbag, tucking it over her shoulder before turning around. Tonks stood, his lanky body hunching over, as he gave another smile.

"When are you free?" he questioned, shuffling his feet. "You know. . . for the project."

Andromeda glanced between his hopeful face and the group of chortling Hufflepuffs waiting at the door, before facing Tonks again.

She grasped her collar, pulling it slightly, before saying, "Just let me know when and where, and I'll be there."

Running her lavender oil infused hands through her curly locks, Andromeda stalked out of the Potion's classroom without a look behind her.

—

He was panting like a sloppy dog when he strolled into the library, slamming his tattered book bag once again on the wooden table. Sweat drenched his hair, sticking each strand to his forehead. And his clothes looked even more rumpled as he cleared his throat, forcing Andromeda's gaze up towards his perspiring face.

"Sorry about that," he quickly offered, pulling out a chair and hunching over in it. "My friends and I were playing hacky sack. I got a bit caught up."

Andromeda barely spared a second comment while humming before pulling out the book she chose from perusing through the shelves behind her.

And they barely spoke properly the rest of the designated hour and she barely noticed the speckling of freckles over the bridge of his nose and she barely cared to leave five minutes earlier, like she had planned.

They were barely more than partners.

Barely.

—

"You're always so tense," he said — and was right — but like always, she scoffed behind her lips and eyed him, carefully, slowly, coolly. "I mean, doesn't it hurt to keep your face stuck like that all day?"

"Like what?" she snapped, lacing her words with as much abhor as she could plop in them.

"Like _that—_ " He gestured wildly to her creased eyebrows and rumpled, pointed nose. "— _that_ weird bunny thing you do."

" _Bunny_ thing?" she repeated and gaped and scrunched her nose again.

"With your nose," he replied with that same wide and crooked smile. "You're sniffing me out like a little bunny."

Baffled, she lifted her hand and touched her nose. His laugh bursted through the air. She ignored the flip flop of her stomach and proceeded to cast her gaze down.

He reached over and tucked an errant and delinquent curl behind the curve of her ear. "You have a cute nose, Black. Don't hide it."

—

"Absolutely not!" Andromeda cried out, before leaning in and whispering, "I'm not a heathen!"

"Do explain how having mud fights is worth—" Tonks paused and perched his chin in his long hands, "—the classification of being a common vagrant."

" _Well_ ," Andromeda replied, huffing her bangs out of her face. "I'd like to put into note that gallivanting around a muddy pond is not ladylike at all."

" _Ladylike_?"

"Mhm — not that you would have any know how of the term," Andromeda stated.

He was silent — calculating. And he ran his tongue over the slope of his chapped lips and he shook his hair out with his fingers and he grasped the edge of the tabletop, knuckles white.

"And why not?"

"Last I checked, you were a boy, Edward, but do stop—"

" _Edward_?"

"That is your name — is it not?"

Tonks smiled lopsidedly. "Call me Ted."

"No. I don't do well with unprecedented nicknames. Too. . . personal," Andromeda whispered, smacking her lips and scratching the side of her face.

He leaned in, almost conspiringly, with his dimples caving in. And then he glanced side to side; she ignored how her heart lurched at the proximity. "Why are you afraid of getting personal?"

Andromeda shifted in her chair, clearing her throat. "As I've said before, I'm not some common boor. I can't go around calling people names worthy of a stuffed animal."

Tonks made a show — clutching his chest and wincing. "Ouch, Andy, your words cut me deep."

She inhaled sharply through her teeth. "Call me 'Andy' one more time — I dare you."

He hooted like a petulant child, bouncing his legs up and down.

And then minutes later—

"I think we're great partners, Andy. Slughorn couldn't have done a better job in picking us together."

He was right; however, she didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that mere fact.

—

"So — they made you wear a goofy pink dress?" He's in tears — stomach-clutching and laugh-choking tears. "I — I can't bloody believe it."

She quirked up a smile of her own, not hiding it behind her perfectly polished fingernails. It almost seemed normal — _them_ , _this_ , whatever _it_ was. They met everyday now, in the back of the library to shy away from prying eyes. An hour turned into four. And 'working on the project' turned into Andromeda listening to the stories about his Muggle childhood.

"I swear, I'm not lying!" Andromeda whispered excitedly. Her eyes lit up when she saw him bite his lip to hide his growing smile. She loved his smile. Dimples and all. "My mother actually made me wear something that looked like a magenta bath pouf! And my sisters wouldn't stop cracking jokes for weeks after Yule!"

"Gods, you have the appeal of a mystery book," Ted sighed wistfully, leaning back and propping the nape of his heck between laced fingers. His eyes fluttered shut, but his voice remained constant, "It's like every chapter, I get sucked in deeper."

Andromeda flushed, feeling the pounding of her heart to the soles of her feet. And the thump thump thump of her chest was all that was left between the cracks of their giggling conversation.

—

"You'd totally like it, trust me," Ted coerced, whispering into her hair during an double block of Potions.

"You know I can't — and you know why too." Andromeda kept her trembling hand steady with her other palm, holding her wrist as she shakily wrote with her quill.

"No, I don't know why you can't," Ted said back, his dank breath caressing the side of her neck. "It's just a get together in my Common Room. Plus, you'd be the first snake to infest our den. Think about how fun it'd be. I'll be there, you'll be there, we'll _both_ be there."

She didn't stare at him — because otherwise her heart would clench again — but she imagined him to be smiling that stupidly adorable grin of his.

"My sister," Andromeda gulped. "She'd tell my parents. I — I just can't."

"Think about it, okay?" Ted replied with an exasperated sigh.

He _knew_ they had to keep their budding friendship a secret. He _knew_ she couldn't ever talk to him outside of Potions. And he _knew_ why why why. But, the bugger was persistent, she'll give him that.

—

She ended up going Friday night anyways. Not that she'd ever admit it, but Andromeda spent nearly forty minutes choosing a pleated skirt and blouse combo — one that would bring out her dark eyes but also compliment her placid personality.

Ted stood against the walls of the corridor, hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers and hair hanging over his face, when she glided over towards him.

He blinked at her and said, "You look really nice, Black."

She played with the hem on her maroon skirt.

Ted's friends were too busy indulging in a game of hacky sack when she was slowly ushered in by Ted — and not a single eye saw her. Truthfully, she was glad. She didn't need anyone blabbing to her house about her affairs — no matter how loyal Hufflepuffs claimed to be, better to be safe than sorry.

And in a moment of hesitation, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it in nervousness. He grinned back and led her up the stairs to his dorm.

The dorm was empty — _really_ empty. And when he sat down on the edge of his bed, stuttering out how he brought a Muggle board game to Hogwarts this year — if she was interested in playing or something.

And Andromeda nodded a little too vigorously before sitting on the floor, smoothing over the pleats of her skirt to cover herself appropriately.

They were seventeen moves in and three guesses down in _Cluedo_ when he did it.

She was mid-sentence and rambling about the absurdity of killing someone — in a Billiard's room _for Merlin's sake_ — when he kissed her. Lips on lips and his hands tangled in her hair. With her mouth already open, he snuck in his tongue and sucked on her bottom lip with fervour.

Sighing into the kiss, she responded seconds later but kept her fists stuck and clenched at her side. Ted cupped both her cheeks and kissed her even more and even more, until all she could taste was the peppermint on his lips and all she could feel was his white hot skin on hers.

In a moment of clarity, Andromeda pushed him back by his shoulders and gasped twice, keeping her gaze down and her hands cupped around his deltoids. They were both panting — him with a lovesick and puppy smile and her with a surprised quirk etched on her lips.

"We — we can't, Ted," Andromeda whispered and closed her eyes. "I — my family. Your blood. We can't."

" _Oh_ — I didn't. . . do you think of me like that?" he asked with a choked voice, and it hurt to hear his voice crack with uncertainty. It _really_ hurt. "Do you see my blood as lower than yours?"

Andromeda steadily met his blue eyes, blinking fast and furiously — mostly to hold in her tears but also because she couldn't help but not want to see his broken expression.

"No," she mumbled softly, hoping he could hear her. And then more firmly, " _No_ , of course not. You're _perfect_ and _ethereal_ and just utterly _flawless_ and everything I want, but you're also everything I can't have."

"Who says you can't?" Ted muttered back. "Who says you can't have me?"

"My parents," she said. "My upbringing. My _blood_."

"Our blood has nothing to do with this," he said, willing her to believe him. " _Nothing_ to do with us."

"It has everything to do with _us_!" Andromeda cried back. Built up walls of protection flooded with the onslaught of her misery, and the tears burnt against her skin. "Don't you understand? This — _us_ — we can never be together. I'm getting married the minute I graduate. And you'll move on towards someone who deserves you. We can't—"

"Stop, Dromeda." Ted shook his head and held her face, softly and lovingly, stroking the sides of her milky skin with the calloused pads of his thumbs. "All I know is that I want to be with you. I wanted to be with you as partners, as friends, and now _this_. Do you want this, too? Be honest — that's all that matters."

Worrying her lips with her teeth, she sucked in a sharp inhale with her nose and gulped down saliva. The acid stung her throat, and the tears flowed freely.

In a barely breathed exhale, "I do."

And he kissed her again.

She didn't want to stop.

So — she _didn't_.

—

He was busy peppering kisses across the snowy hills of her cheeks and the mountainous slopes of her nose and the silky plains of her forehead, past her giggles and under his happy, cheerful sighs. Andromeda gripped tightly on his shirt, holding on for dear life — because _Merlin_ can that boy cause her knees to go shaky.

It had been eleven weeks of this — sneaking around after curfew so he could hold her hand in an empty storage cupboard or he could talk to her about warm cherry pies and wilting daisies and sluggish snails from his hometown. And she would lace her fingers in his or talk about her family's obsession with astronomy and pureblood soirees and garlic-buttered escargot.

Sometimes, if they were lucky, he'd get his dorm room to himself, and he would sneak her up there to snuggle on his bed — like a giant teddy bear would — button eyes, corduroy skin, and all.

"Ted," Andromeda whispered. " _Ted_."

"Sorry," he mumbled with his supple lips against her forehead, hugging her tightly and running his fingernails up and down her spine. "I've missed you — it's been nine days."

"I've been busy. You know that," Andromeda sighed into his grey jumper.

"Never be busy again," he mumbled back and kissed her cheeks equally again. " _I_ _missed you_. You drive me crazy — absolutely nutters, actually."

She kissed his lips fully then before leaning back and asking, "Is that good or bad?"

"Good." He bit her nose teasingly. " _Definitely_ good."

—

"You're _insatiable_ , Ted."

Another kiss on her red-tinged nose and then, "Mm, you're just _grumpy_."

—

 _ **after**_

"Isn't he a catch, darling?" her mother drawled, lacing her manicured fingers to the right position to show off her sapphire wedding ring.

"Who?" Andromeda questioned, glancing at Bellatrix on the other end of the table. She had a knowing look etched on her face; it made Andromeda's stomach drop.

"Ross Flint, of course," her mother said with pursed lips, taking a careful sip of the merlot wine in her golden goblet. "Perfect marriage potential."

"Yes, mother," Andromeda said while nodding, looking down towards her lukewarm pea soup with scrunched eyebrows.

—

"You better break up with the Mudblood before I tell mummy," Bella hissed towards Andromeda, caging her against the walls outside the Slytherin dungeons.

Andromeda jutted her chin up and kept her gaze white hot agsint her sister's eyes. "Don't tell me what to do, Bella. You may have Cis wrapped around your finger, but I can handle myself."

"Oh, and dating a filthy little Hufflepuff Mudblood is handling yourself? Good to know that all these years, when I thought I had a second sister, I was dead wrong."

It was like a stab to the gut — hearing her sister disown her at the drop of a beat.

"I love _him_ , Bella," Andromeda whispered. "He's. . . not a filthy Muggle-born. And if you loved _me_ , you would understand."

Bellatrix grabbed Andromeda's neck, slamming her against the cobblestone walls.

"He's a dirty animal, Andy. He's barely half a wizard. You disgust me," she hissed with venom, close enough to feel her breath against her cheek. "Have fun with your Mudblood, you slag. Because when I tell mother of your disgusting exploits this summer, he's going to be the only one you have left, you blood traitor."

"And what are you going to do this summer? Marry off to that pretentious little Lestrange heir and inherit your Gringotts' bank account from mum and dad to go and send it off to Voldemort, are you? Don't think I haven't noticed, Bella. How you hang around _those_ people. The people who pride themselves in following a homicidal maniac who—"

"Never speak ill of him!" Bellatrix gripped tighter around her neck, looming in closer.

"Let me go, Bella!"

"I already did, _sister_. I already did," Bella whispered, releasing her grip. "Toujours pur, Andy."

Bellatrix glided away without another word, and Andromeda bit her lip so hard, she felt blood rush to the surface.

—

" _She_ knows, Teddy," Andromeda said before her voice was wracked with sobs, her body leaning back further into the hard wood of the library shelves. "Bella knows. About us."

His arm around her shoulder tensed before he brought her sobbing body closer towards him so that her head synchronised with his heartbeat perfectly.

"What do you want to do?" Ted asked softly, mumbling little words of comfort into her hair.

"We need to take a break," Andromeda regretfully muttered.

"What do you mean 'a break'?" he reiterated.

"I don't know." Andromeda worried with her fingers, focusing on the warmth emanating from her body. "Maybe you should see other people — to throw my sister off."

"I don't want to see other people, Dromeda." He embraced her fully, wrapping both his arms around her shoulders so he could bury his nose into the crook between her neck and shoulders.

"I know," Andromeda whispered into the silent air. "Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore. I hate sneaking just to hold your hand. I hate having to lie to my sister every time I leave the Common Room. I hate _this_."

He tensed around her. "You hate us?"

"I — I don't know anymore."

Silence.

"Maybe I should go," he finally said minutes later.

Andromeda didn't want him to, but she watched his sulking body glide away towards the front end of the library, holding her heart in his hands.

 **—**

"How's your little Mudblood?" Bella whispered into her neck, and Andromeda could feel her smirk against the shell of her ear.

Andromeda stepped away, crossing her arms over her long green and silver scarf. She smoothed down her school skirt, casting a brief glance at the Hufflepuff stands on the other end of the Quidditch pitch.

He was smiling at a girl — Madeline Abbott. It hurt. More than she'd care to admit.

When she had asked for them to take a break, Andromeda hadn't known how quickly Ted would drop her from his life. He barely looked at her in the corridors anymore, and every time she'd approach him in the library, he'd offer curt words and dismissive stares.

"How would I know?" Andromeda shot back, not looking at her sneering older sister. "I don't even talk to that filthy excuse of a wizard anymore."

Bellatrix increased their proximity, dragging her sharp pointer finger across Andromeda's shoulder slowly. "Liar. You're in love with him. I can smell it on you."

Her words sent shivers up Andromeda's spine, but she quickly shunned the feeling away. The Quidditch announcer shouted _Ten Points for Slytherin!_ — and about Ross Flint scoring another goal, while the annoying Chaser himself threw an irritating and smug victory wave at the Black sisters. Bella waved back, a dark laugh filling the air around them.

"What would you know, Bella?" Andromeda growled. "Maybe the reason you're so adamant on ruining my life is because that Longbottom fellow wouldn't give you the time of day. Heard he was shacking up with Alice from Gryffindor."

Bella immediately scowled, gripping Andromeda's bicep with such force, she felt the bruising skin down to her bones.

Then in a low and warning tone, " _Never_ say anything about that sorry excuse for a Pureblood again. Or you'll regret it, I swear it."

Andromeda shook her sister's grip off her bicep, heard the announcer cry for a Slytherin victory, and stalked down the steps. She ignored the wolf cries from the vulgar Slytherin team as she stomped off towards the castle.

—

"I'm selfish, Ted. You know that. I'm so inconsiderate that I'd do anything not to see you in the arms of someone else — do anything to see you not love someone else. Because I know there'd never be a person who loves you as much as I do. Selfish, I know, but pure truth."

"Then why. . .?"

Andromeda looked fully away then, willing herself not to cry with every last power she could muster.

"I don't have a choice!" she snapped, but then she voiced in a quiet and soft murmur, "I've never had a choice. My mother arranged it years ago, so I can't disobey her."

"Then, what am I to you?" Ted asked.

"You're my everything."

He shook his head. "You can't say those things! You can't say that when you don't mean them!"

"I don't have a choice," Andromeda repeated. "But if I did — _if I could choose_ — just know that it'd be you. I'd pick you every single time."

Ted stepped closer, hesitantly, and took her trembling right hand to place it right on his heart. Warmth on warmth. The staccato rhythm increased when she laid her hand limp on his chest. She knew what he was trying to say without words — that his heart was hers, no matter what. When Andromeda looked up at him through blurry eyes, his features were so tender and loving, and she knew Teddy had never looked at another girl like this — _ever_.

And maybe that was enough for her in that moment. Maybe they would never _be_ , and maybe there would always be ' _what ifs_ ' swarming through her head. But at that time, it was enough.

And she would hold onto that _enough_ with all her being.

—

 _ **later**_

He was panting — his heart running faster than her mind. "Pick me, then. And choose me. Just run away with me. After graduation, run away with _me_."

His hands were clammy against hers and his lips were chapped and his hair was tousled — but she couldn't see him as more beautiful if she tried. He looked absolutely angelic.

He kept rambling when she didn't reply. "I know I'll never be as wealthy as your f-family, and I know I'm a Muggle-born. But I also know I c-can love you. I can love you forever and ever. I promise you, Andromeda Black. I _will_ love you till the end of time. I can be _yours_. And you can be _mine_. We can be each other's. I promise."

She knew it was wrong — utterly, full-heartedly, and inconsolably _wrong_. But in the same way with the same reasons, it was lovingly, passionately, and fervently _right_.

So in a quick, shaky exhale of breath, she voiced, "Okay."

And it was okay.

They were okay.

* * *

 _a/n: shoutout to my fave canon couple, ever. and also to the owner of the flowers on my cover. yay. also this is connected to my other story 'this little light of mine'._


End file.
